


Stay Alive (That Would Be Enough)

by samlover14



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, M/M, NOT any of the main relationships, as you can CLEARLY see from the title and everything, definitely not inspired by hamilton, i honestly started this before baby jones was real, not incredibly graphic depictions of an abusive relationship, why is it funhaus and not fakehaus? cuz i dont care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samlover14/pseuds/samlover14
Summary: Michael left the crime life to be with Lindsay… His idea.  He doesn’t want to die before his daughter is born, but he misses the life so much.   Ray is in a bad relationship with someone else.  Ryan does the romantic equivalent of running in guns blazing to save him.  Geoff is trying to fight the infamous Funhaus.  What he really needs is for all his employees to quit circle jerking and help him win this goddamn war.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, I wrote the first 9k of this before extra life/the baby jones announcement, and I've been back and forth on whether to post it or not, but since I finally finished it, and it's not the worst thing I've ever written, I thought what the heck, why not
> 
> As I said in the tags, there is a very brief paragraph depicting a physically abusive relationship (it's about a third of the way in), but only insofar as the character briefly summarizing the story of the abuse happening to another character so that they can decide the best way to kill the other character. There are other mentions of bruises etc because of that relationship before that point. Just want to be up front about this. Also on the category of warnings, Gav has a mild panic attack and is said to be dissociative. Take from that what you will.
> 
> I hope you like the read, I've been working pretty hard on it. There's some good laughs down there. Enjoy~

_Hey asshole, I could really fucking use you right about now.  We’re taking hits like a motherfucker.  All I have left is the fucking skeleton crew.  Ray just asked where the skeletons are.  I really, really, really need you back, kid.  Your phone is disconnected and this email is my last attempt before I start more creative methods.  I can’t fight Funhaus and have half my team searching for you.  I need Mogar.  We need Mogar.  We can’t win this without you.  Love, Geoff_

 

It was a touching email, more because Geoff hadn’t written an email in years than anything else, not when Jack or Michael were doing his work, but the thought was still there.  Running Los Santos was taxing and Geoff Lazer Ramsey didn’t have time to screw around with email.  But that was before.  Before the rise of Funhaus, before Michael quit the game, before Fake AH had been decimated.  (Decimate historically meaning ‘to kill one in ten as an example instead of killing an entire group’.)

 

It was no one’s decision but Michael’s own, and Geoff had let him go.  Michael had had a very close call, very narrowly avoided death.  He’d left that night before he was even properly patched up.  He and Lindsay were gone, without a trace, done with Los Santos.  They were in Austin now.  Michael was doing some shitty electrician work he hated.  Lindsay was doing IT work for some company.  They both missed the crew and the crime life, but they had to think about the future.  No way were they letting their daughter grow up in that kind of situation.  It was better for everyone.  Geoff was the only one who knew why Michael and Lindsay had left (besides Gavin, of course).  In fact, it was easy enough to tell most people that Mogar was dead.  Funhaus had believed it, for sure.

 

Lindsay suggested Michael call Geoff instead of emailing him back, because Geoff had a weird personality that didn’t always come off very well through text on a screen.  Michael didn’t like the idea that the call might be traced, but eventually she wore him down.

 

“Hello?” Geoff demanded when he answered the phone.  “Who is this?  How did you get this number?  I swear to God, Kovic, I will cut you all down if you–”

 

“Geoff, chill the fuck out, it’s me,” Michael said.

 

“Me who?” Geoff asked.  “M- Michael?”

 

“Yeah,” Michael said, picking at a thread on the couch.  “Yeah, it’s Michael.  I got your email.”

 

“Micoo?!” Michael could hear Gavin’s voice demanding from Geoff’s end of the phone.

 

“Shush, Gav,” Geoff directed at him, then back to the phone, “dude, it’s good to hear your voice.”

 

“Yeah, you too,” Michael said. “How’s things?”

 

“It’s bad,” Geoff said.  “We’re dead as dicks, dude.  Kinda just waiting it out.”

 

“Oh God,” Michael said, knowing at that moment that he wasn’t going to be able to even talk himself into staying in Austin at this point.

 

“Gav and I are in hiding.  Jack’s been captured.  Last I heard, Ryan and Ray were bunkered down in a safe house in the mountains.  Lil J’s still undercover but it’s only a matter of time before they figure him out.  Matt and TreyCo and Kdin are my eyes and ears now.  I can’t even leave the house,” Geoff recapped quickly. 

 

“Geoff, dude, do you really think even I could help at this point?” Michael asked.

 

“What?  No, don’t come back here,” Geoff almost shouted in panic.  “You’re safe.  They think you’re dead.  Those bastards will never come after you.”

 

“But… you need me,” Michael said, confused.

 

“No, Michael, you stay away from Los Santos,” Geoff said.

 

“You didn’t send me that email, did you?”

 

“What email?”

 

“I gotta go,” Michael said, brain frazzled.  “Tell Gav I miss him.”  He hung up before Geoff could protest again.  He tore into the office that adjoined their living room at full tilt and banged open the false wall where he had dumped all the shit he’d brought with him from Fake AH.  Lindsay sat at the desk, working, briefly looking up as he started suiting up, but returning to her work.

 

“Be safe,” Lindsay told him.

 

“If I don’t come back–” Michael began.

 

“Nope,” Lindsay shook her head.  “You’re coming back.  You’re going to kick Funhaus ass, and after that you’re going to come back here, because your daughter will never forgive you if you don’t.”

 

“Wow, she’s already guilting me into stuff,” Michael remarked.  “She gets that from you.”

 

“Don’t make me come with you,” Lindsay said, more of a threat than anything else.

 

“If you think I’m letting you run into a gang battle when you’re 7 months pregnant, you’re delusional,” Michael said.

 

“Since when do you ‘let’ me do anything?” Lindsay asked.  “I’ll go if I want to.  Being pregnant isn’t a disability.”

 

“I’m not digging myself into this hole again,” Michael shook his head.  “I ran out on the crew and they need me.”

 

“Shouldn’t you find out who sent the email first?” Lindsay asked him.  Michael stopped packing his emergency bag and stared at her.  “If Geoff didn’t send it, then who did?”

 

“I don’t know,” Michael said.  “Who did send it?”

 

“I can narrow it down to an android phone somewhere in the mountains near Vinewood,” Lindsay said.  “That’s Funhaus territory.  You could be running back into a trap.”

 

“Ryan,” Michael exhaled, pulling his phone back out and dialing.

 

“How do you know?” Lindsay asked, worried.

 

“He’s the only person in the fucking world who doesn’t have an iPhone,” Michael replied.  The phone rang more times than it should have and finally gained a response.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey,” Michael said.

 

“He told us you were dead,” the half-whisper came from the other end.

 

“He lied to keep me safe,” Michael said.  “You wouldn’t have sent that email if you didn’t suspect I was alive.”

 

“It was a Hail Mary at best,” Ryan said.  “We need help.  Badly.  We’d have the element of surprise with you, at least.”

 

“Is it as bad as Geoff said?” Michael asked.

 

“Worse, probably,” Ryan replied.  “We don’t get news anymore.  Ray and I are running out of supplies.  If we stretch it, we’ve got three days left of water, and no way out.  They cut us off from the line, trying to drive us out.”

 

“I’m leaving right now,” Michael told him.  “Geoff doesn’t want me to, but I can’t let you guys down like this.”

 

“Michael?”  A second voice.  It was Ray, but it was faint, like he wasn’t well or had been sleeping, or perhaps both.

 

“Yeah, it’s Michael,” Ryan told Ray.  “He’s coming.  We’re going to take those bastards down in one final battle.”

 

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” Ray muttered, and Michael almost couldn’t hear him, but he seemed to be quite close to the mic on Ryan’s phone.

 

“You’ll be great,” Ryan said.  “Try to save your strength.  There’s some crackers left, I think.”

 

“Those are for you,” Ray said, stubbornly.

 

“I’m fine.  I want you to eat them,” Ryan replied.  Ray’s whines got softer as he walked away.  “He’s not in good shape, Michael.  Please hurry.”

 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Michael promised.

 

\--

 

It hadn’t always been a battleground for the Fake AH Crew.  In the old days, they’d ruled Los Santos without a care in the world.  It had been Geoff and Jack and Ryan at first, and the lads had slowly come to them, then the B-Team, then the rest of the empire.  Then enemy gangs cropped up.  Everybody wants to rule the world.  They’d managed to stamp out most of them, but Funhaus was stubborn and they were good.

 

Geoff met Gavin first, of course, found him on the streets and taken him in.  Gavin was a quick learner and better than most of the crew at talking himself out of sticky situations.  He used the pay from his first official job to buy a pair of ridiculously overpriced gold-rimmed sunglasses, but that was Gavin.  He knew what he wanted and he got it.  Anything else was inconsequential.

 

That’s how Geoff ended up with Michael.  Gavin had met him, wanted him, and got him.  They were best friends on their worst days and inseparable on their best.  Geoff knew Michael had a lot of natural talents that fit his own hiring criteria, so he went along with it, not that he would ever deny Gavin anything he wanted.

 

Michael was a natural – he had that perfect nonchalance when going for the kill that not even Ryan could muster.  Ryan might have acted like a psychopathic killer, but under it all, he really cared too much – and that’s how they’d ended up with Ray.

 

They’d met one day when Ryan was taking one of his tours of the city, making sure no one was getting up to any shit in their territory, when he saw the purple hoodie and checkerboard vans he would come to love, getting taken advantage of in an alley.  Ryan had immediately ran to help him, but a shot rang out and Ray’s attacker had crumpled to the ground.  Which wouldn’t have been as impressive as it was, except Ray had been on the ground and weaponless ten seconds before the shot.  In mere seconds, he’d flipped the script, taken his attacker’s gun, and shot him straight between the eyes.

 

“That was a hell of a shot, kid,” Ryan said.

 

“Stay the fuck away from me,” Ray replied, still holding the gun with his left hand, even, now aimed at Ryan.  Ryan put his hands up in a peace offering.

 

“Okay, I’m not coming any closer,” Ryan told him.  “I saw you getting jumped and I was coming to help, but you’re clearly capable.”

 

“Yeah, not my first time,” Ray said dryly.  “Now scram.”  Ray kept the gun vaguely trained on where Ryan wasn’t scramming as he rifled through the pockets of the asshole who’d decided to mess with the wrong person.  “Why aren’t you gone?” Ray asked as he looked back at Ryan, now holding a wallet and a pack of gum.  In truth, Ryan had never been told to scram by a kid with a gun before, and he didn’t know what to do.  He was the Mad King, did this kid really not know who he was?

 

“Uh…” Ryan’s brain was not working correctly either, so he just stood rooted to the spot with his hands up.

 

“Clearly you’ve never had a gun pointed at you before,” Ray said.  Not true, Ryan had guns pointed at him all the time, usually by skilled criminals.  “Here’s how it works.  I tell you to scram, and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.  We’ve already established I’m more than capable.”  Ryan was hesitant to move, though he didn’t know why.  “Hang on…  You look kinda familiar.”  Ray walked closer to Ryan, who was still rooted to the spot.  “You’re one of those Fake AH assholes, aren’t you?  You’re pretty stupid for a Fakie.”

 

“Apparently,” Ryan replied.

 

“Let’s see.  You’re not Ramsey – no tattoos.  And you’re not Gavino either, because he’s British, and you’re not.  So you’re either Mogar or Vagabond, and either way, you’re not impressing me.  So why don’t you run along home to Ramsey and tell him BrownMan scared you shitless in an alley,” Ray said, brandishing the gun in a ‘leave already fuckhead’ sort of gesture.

 

“BrownMan?” Ryan asked.

 

“Look, fuckhead, you’re not the only one with a codename.  Get out of my alley, or I will shoot you,” Ray frowned, aiming his gun.

 

“Shoot me,” Ryan said.  Ray pulled the trigger but the gun just clicked.  No ammo.  Ray got a sour look on his face as Ryan smirked.  “So.  BrownMan.  Mind telling me how you know so much about the Fakes?”  Their names and faces weren’t common knowledge, not in those days, and Ryan was curious.  This guy must have been connected.

 

“I hear things,” Ray said, shoving the pistol into the waistband of his pants, now that it had been rendered useless.  “Used to be a freelancer back in the day.”

 

“What day?  You’re like 15, kid,” Ryan said.

 

“I’m 22 and don’t you forget it,” Ray replied.

 

“So you’re 22 and you used to be a freelancer,” Ryan said.  “Do you want to get coffee?  Or soda?  Whatever you kids are drinking these days?”

 

“I guess so,” Ray shrugged.  He wasn’t about to turn down free food, even from a dangerous criminal.  Ryan led the way to a Starbucks or a Tim Hortons or something, and Ray was silent as they went.

 

“You’re quieter than I expected,” Ryan finally said as they sat down at a table with their drinks.  Ryan had some kind of fancy coffee, Ray had a hot chocolate.

 

“Not much to say,” Ray said.  Now that he was in the light of the coffee shop, Ryan could get a good look at him.  His purple hoodie seemed to be at least a size too big and his jeans were baggy too, as if he’d recently lost a lot of weight and hadn’t bothered to buy new clothes, or had gotten hand-me-downs from someone bigger than him.  There were deep bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept properly in days, but he still managed to hold up that devil-may-care attitude that Ryan envied.

 

“Okay, I’ll talk, then,” Ryan said.  The shop was empty except for the two of them, the barista had disappeared somewhere out of sight behind the counter.  “I’m Ryan.  I like diet coke and long drives in a fast car.  In my spare time, I build and fix PCs while trying to maintain the city my crew and I have worked hard to conquer.  You?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t want to say anything because now we both know I’m not armed and I don’t want to get myself dead tonight,” Ray said.

 

“For the last time, I was coming into that alley to save you,” Ryan said.

 

“Right, Ryan the chivalry guy,” Ray remarked.  “I’ve heard enough about you to be worried.”

 

“You still don’t know which I am,” Ryan pointed out.

 

“You’re Vagabond,” Ray said, throwing the words out carelessly and taking a sip of his hot drink.  Ryan was stunned.  “Don’t sweat it, old man.  I was never paid to kill you or anything.”

 

“What do you do?” Ryan asked.

 

“I’m arm-candy, obviously, look at me,” Ray joked.  Ryan chuckled.  “I’m serious.  Kind of.”

 

“You said you used to freelance,” Ryan reminded him.

 

“I did,” Ray insisted.  “I don’t anymore.  Got more important things to do.  Call of Duty isn’t going to kick its own ass.”

 

“You traded in being a merc for video games?” Ryan asked.

 

“Yeah…” Ray said offhandedly.  “Not exactly by choice…”

 

“Does it have to do with the fact that you’re also arm-candy now?” Ryan asked.

 

“Kind of.  I don’t really want to talk about it….” Ray muttered.

 

“Do you want to play with me sometime?” Ryan asked.

 

“Sure,” Ray said with a shrug.  “My kill count could use a boost.”

 

“What makes you think you’re going to win?” Ryan asked.

 

“I always do,” Ray grinned.

 

They exchanged numbers and gamer tags and went their separate ways from the coffee shop.  Ryan had wanted to walk Ray home, but Ray had instantly refused, which was understandable, so Ryan suggested that Ray text him when he got home so Ryan knew he didn’t get jumped in a different alley.

 

Ray:  _You can stop worrying now.  I made it home._

Ryan:  _Good.  I’d hate to lose my CoD buddy before we even got a chance to play._

 

It escalated more quickly than Ryan could have possibly imagined from there and within a week, they were meeting for coffee again after playing tens if not hundreds of rounds of CoD.

 

“Until I find out differently, I’m going to assume the BM in BM Vagabond stands for BrownMan.  I know you’re a huge fan of my work,” Ray said as they sat down with their drinks.  This time Ryan had a diet coke and some kind of baked good.  Ray had another hot chocolate.

 

“Okay,” Ryan agreed.  Ray’s phone buzzed on the table and he ignored it.

 

“I mean, there’s no other words you could possibly be abbreviating.  I know a super fan when I see one,” Ray continued.

 

“Yeah, you got me.  I’m a huge fan,” Ryan said.  “A fifteen-year-old with a bright pink sniper rifle.  I’m all hot and bothered just thinking about it.”

 

“I’m 22, dude, I told you,” Ray said.  His phone buzzed another time, and he ignored it again.

 

“Should you get that?” Ryan asked, indicating Ray’s phone.  Ray looked down at it, then back to Ryan.

 

“Nah.”

 

“Okay,” Ryan shrugged.  It buzzed another time.  Ray picked up his phone and flicked through the menus to silence it completely.

 

“Won’t bother us now,” Ray said, setting it down again.

 

“Is it your girlfriend?” Ryan asked.  Ray snorted.

 

“Not exactly,” he replied, but not meeting Ryan’s gaze.

 

“Sorry,” Ryan barely mumbled, sipping his diet coke, knowing he’d clearly touched a nerve.

 

“It’s just… my boyfriend,” Ray sighed.  “I didn’t tell him I was going out and he gets possessive.”

 

“How possessive?” Ryan asked.  “Like… I should worry about an airstrike on the building or I should worry about a bomb in my car?”

 

“Well, he doesn’t know about you…” Ray said.  “I think it’s better that way.”

 

“I can accept that,” Ryan said, but in the back of his mind, he was suspicious.  He had no real intention of making a move on this kid, at least, he hadn’t a week ago, but knowing he had a (most likely) shitty boyfriend was pulling at his instinct to help people.  Just like the kid that almost got jumped in the alley, Ryan was now obligated to help Ray with his boyfriend troubles.  On the other hand, it was also obvious that Ray didn’t want to talk about his boyfriend, and Ryan indulged him in that respect.   So Ryan changed the subject.  “What do you know about Funhaus?”

 

“What don’t I know about Funhaus?” Ray replied.  “Bunch of assholes, trying to take over Vinewood.  Not doing a very good job.  Sometimes I sit on the roof and pick off their dumb drones.”

 

“Are you the one that’s been shooting the drones?” Ryan asked, in awe.  “Fuck, dude, we’ve gotten angry accusations from at least three of those guys.  They think it’s us that’s been doing it.  Which, believe me, I tried, but they’re too quick and too far away for me.”

 

“Easy pickings,” Ray snorted.  “You just don’t have the touch.”

 

“Clearly,” Ryan agreed.  “We could use a sniper like you, Ray.”

 

“I’m not joining a crew,” Ray said with a laugh.  “Especially not the Fakies.”

 

“We’re not all that bad,” Ryan said.

 

“Says you, you’re on the inside of it,” Ray said.  “You don’t see what it’s like on the outside.”

 

“I’m sure it’s terrible.  All the more reason to join if you’ve got an invite,” Ryan smiled.  He was joking around, but if Ray wanted in, he would 100% make his case to Geoff and not rest until Geoff approved him.

 

“Oh, you guys are invite-only now?  When did you stop letting in any old riff-raff?” Ray replied teasingly.

 

“Well, to get promoted into the inner circle takes some serious skill,” Ryan said, more defending his crew than trying to joke around or flirt.

 

“How’d you get in?” Ray asked, a smirk on his lips, still teasing, as he raised his hot chocolate to sip.

 

“I wrote a strongly worded letter of recommendation for myself,” Ryan said.  “And then stapled it to the body of the guy Geoff had been tracking for two weeks, and left it in his apartment.”  A joke, and very far from the truth, but quite believable based on anything anyone knew about the Mad King.

 

“A for creativity,” Ray commented.

 

Time passed and just based on vague snippets of mostly one-sided conversation Ryan heard through Ray’s XBL mic, he gathered Ray’s asshole boyfriend was in a gang too, which explained why Ray hated Fake AH so much.  Ryan tried to compile as much information as possible and took it to Geoff.

 

“What’s this?” Geoff asked, looking at the disjointed words scribbled over three scraps of paper.

 

“I know a guy, real good kid, great fuckin sniper,” Ryan said.  “He’s the one that’s been shooting down Funhaus’s drones.”

 

“Okay.  You want Michael to take him out?” Geoff asked, confused.

 

“No!” Ryan said immediately.  “No, no, no.   No, if I wanted him taken out, I could do that easily.  I definitely don’t want him taken out.”

 

“You want to take him out on a date?” Geoff asked, a grin growing under his mustache. 

 

“I want all the information you have on this guy,” Ryan pointed to the name he’d scribbled, as far as he could figure, Ray’s boyfriend.

 

Ryan wasn’t planning on killing Ray’s boyfriend per se, he actually thought Ray might enjoy it more.  Ray’s boyfriend was loud, obnoxious, and, lately, violent.  Ray and Ryan both pretended they couldn’t see Ray’s bruises after Ray had tried to laugh them off as a ‘sex thing’, though the hollow, dead look in his eyes told a different story.  Ray never came right out and said anything negative directly about his boyfriend, but Ryan picked up on the subtext quickly.  Ray’s boyfriend treated him like… well, arm-candy.  Property, even.  His boyfriend kept him cooped up in his (albeit) nice apartment, and made Ray hang up his guns in the figurative sense, not letting him out on jobs, so the only real enjoyment Ray got was from playing video games with Ryan and shooting Funhaus drones from the roof.  It was easy enough for Ryan to triangulate where Ray lived based on science and math and things like trajectories and the location where most of the drones that had been shot down were found.

 

“I know him,” Geoff said.  “Used to be in a crew together, ten, twelve years ago?  Real piece of shit.  Didn’t know he was still around.  Jack and I took out that crew ourselves.  What a sneaky son of a bitch.  I’ll get Jack to do some more recon and have Michael take him out.”

 

“Thanks for the offer, still no,” Ryan said.  “Well – maybe.  Put that one on hold, I’ll get back to you.”

 

The Gents (not so much Jack as the other two) were so often changing their minds about who they’d sentenced to death, that they actually had a few boxes in their main office room at HQ.  Both were full of folders about jobs and heists, one labeled ‘active’ and the other labeled ‘hold’.  Jack and Michael hated it, it was evidence, but it was necessary.  After an execution or assassination, the entire file was burned.

 

“Is this about that kid you’ve been playing CoD with?” Geoff asked.  Ryan didn’t say anything.  “We do need a sniper.”

 

“He’s a hell of a good shot,” Ryan said.

 

“Be careful, Ryan.  You’re meddling in things you really shouldn’t be,” Geoff warned.

 

“I know,” Ryan agreed.

 

Ryan didn’t know exactly what to say to Ray about it.  He was always so secretive about where he lived, who his contacts were, and would never agree to be seen in the Fake’s established part of town.  So they stuck to the coffee shop near the alley where they’d met.

 

It was the hottest day so far, and Ray was still wearing the huge hoodie he always wore.  Even Ryan had foregone his leather jacket, wearing just a t-shirt and jeans, though he was beginning to wish he’d worn shorts – it was that hot.  Months had passed since the first night of hot chocolate, and Ray instead ordered a frozen lemonade, and Ryan stuck with Diet Coke.

 

“You’re going to get heatstroke,” Ryan told Ray.

 

“I like my hoodie,” Ray said defensively.

 

“I didn’t try to save you in that alley just to have you die of heatstroke,” Ryan lectured him.  Ray refused.

 

Their coffee runs had been progressively getting a more date-like vibe, which only made Ray’s boyfriend angrier, from what Ryan could catch before Ray muted his mic.  To Ray’s credit, he never complained to Ryan about his boyfriend, even as his boyfriend’s temper increased.  Ray even tried to keep the entire situation from Ryan, because he wasn’t the type to complain or ask for help.  He was more than capable of handling the situation himself, a skilled marksman and a list of confirmed kills a mile long.  No matter how much Ryan wanted to help, he couldn’t do anything until Ray asked for it.  Even if Ryan knew from instincts and visual clues like Ray’s bruises and attitude, he couldn’t just assassinate Ray’s boyfriend for him and claim Ray for his own.  That’s not how the world worked, and it would make him just as bad as Ray’s boyfriend.  Ray was his own person and could take care of himself.

 

It was a nice day, just shy of 80 degrees, scattered white fluffy clouds dotting the sky, but not nearly enough to block the sun as it beat down on them.  Ryan suggested they walk to the nearby beach – still part of the neutral ground they’d previously established – as they might get a cool ocean breeze, but it still wasn’t enough to cool off the hottest day so far.  It was 20 minutes before Ray grudgingly started unzipping his sweatshirt as sweat dripped down his face from his hairline.

 

“You’re going to say things, and I appreciate the concern, but just _don’t_ ,” Ray said, finally taking off his hoodie, and it was immediately apparent why he’d been reluctant to take it off.  There were bruises everywhere, most notable on his upper arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his t-shirt, where it looked as though someone had grabbed him and squeezed too tight, almost as if to hold him down or prevent him from escaping, and around his throat, which looked to be the same kind of marks, as though someone had strangled him, but here he was, on the beach with Ryan, both of them knowing that them being together like this was the exact reason he had those bruises.  Ray spread his sweatshirt on the sand and they both sat down.

 

“Sex thing?” Ryan asked, though all joking had long since evaporated from that question.

 

“Yeah,” Ray said hollowly.  The way he curled in on himself, trying to look even smaller, made Ryan want to reach for him, to kiss his lips and bruises, but only after asking for consent and truly receiving it.

 

Consent is not only sexy, but mandatory.

 

“This guy must fuck real good because he certainly doesn’t have any other redeeming qualities,” Ryan rolled his eyes and looked out at the Pacific.  It was a risk, the comment, but this had to progress.  The standstill of their relationship was driving Ryan even more insane.

 

“He used to,” Ray said quietly, biting his lower lip, also looking out at the ocean.

 

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, looking over at his sideways, and to his surprise, Ray shook his head, tears leaking out of his eyes.  Ryan had never seen Ray this… vulnerable.

 

“No, I’m not okay,” Ray finally admitted.

 

“What do you want me to do?  Anything,” Ryan said, implying without being explicit that he was more than willing to assassinate Ray’s boyfriend and his whole crew if Ray wanted him to.

 

“Can I have a hug?” Ray asked.  Not what Ryan had been expecting, but complied never the less.  Ray was always one to shy away from physical contact, but he needed a warm caring hug from someone he trusted.  Ryan’s arms were firm around Ray, but not too tight.  Ryan (rightly) assumed Ray had other bruises he couldn’t see.  “He used to be so good to me.  He made me feel like I was the most special person in the world.  He bought me whatever I wanted, gave me everything a guy could want, the sex was amazing, but… then he changed.  He got protective, but it still made me feel good, you know?  When he said he didn’t want me taking jobs anymore, it was for my safety, and he was right.  I had a lot of close calls with the cops and other assassins.  But then he got controlling, and he didn’t want me to go out anymore, and when I didn’t do what he said, he got mean, and I didn’t know how to leave him.”

 

“I can help you,” Ryan offered.  “I can find you a place to live, I can make sure he never touches you again.  You wouldn’t have to join Fake AH if you didn’t want, but we can take care of it.  I’d never keep you cooped up in a high rise.  A beautiful rose like you needs room to grow.” 

 

Ryan didn’t know when he’d gotten so cheesy, but it felt right even if it sounded stupid as it came out of his mouth.  If anyone could hear the most-feared criminal in Los Santos trying to sweet talk this kid, they’d laugh in his face the next time he raised a gun at them.  Fortunately, there wasn’t anyone blatantly listening to them, nor observing them hugging on the beach in the broad daylight.  Just normal beachgoers, going about their normal beach days, not worried about gangs or crews or Hispanic ex-assassins with abusive boyfriends.

 

“Wow, okay, no homo, tho,” Ray joked, pulling out of the hug.  Ryan chuckled in spite of the situation.  Leave it to Ray to ruin a moment.  “Do you want to come to my place?”  Ryan must have given Ray a look, because Ray hastily continued, “he left this morning and he won’t be back for a few days.”  It wasn’t innocent , it wasn’t innocent at all, but Ryan couldn’t help himself.

 

Ray sat almost completely in Ryan’s lap as they played a few rounds, and then Ray kissed him.  The game was abandoned in favor of making out on the couch, Ray on top and in control.  It took hours for them to even want to stop.

 

“Do you want to go to dinner or order pizza or something?  I’m fucking starving,” Ray said, cuddled pleasantly into Ryan’s chest.

 

“Yeah, whatever you want,” Ryan said.  Ray opened the pizza ordering app on his phone.  “D’you need cash for the driver?”

 

“Nah,” Ray said.  “His credit card’s saved in my phone.”

 

It should have made Ryan feel dirty, taking someone else’s boyfriend and using said someone else’s money to pay for dinner, but Ryan couldn’t bring himself to care.  A brief thought of Ray being some kind of black widow assassin who lured unsuspecting rival crew members into his house before killing them flashed through Ryan’s mind, but it barely even registered.  This wasn’t like that.  Not at all.  They stayed the night, and the next day Ray let Ryan bring him to Fake AH HQ.

 

“What does the AH stand for?” Ray asked as they walked into the quiet apartment.  It was nowhere near as nice as the one Ray was living in, but it worked for them at the time.  It was only three bedrooms for five people, but Geoff and Jack had never minded sharing, and Michael and Gavin had gotten really excited when Jack had proposed bunk beds.  Ryan had his own room, and he thought it was probably because the others were scared of him.  He knew he was going to lose it soon, though, because Michael was with Lindsay now, and he wasn’t going to want to share a bunk bed with Gavin much longer.

 

“I think it stands for assholes,” Ryan said.

 

“Oh.”  Ray sounded disappointed.

 

“What do you want it to stand for?”

 

“I don’t know, it could stand for anything,” Ray shrugged.  “Assholes is a bit of a letdown, honestly.”

 

“Geoff went through about 90 things it could possibly stand for back when it was just the three of us.  Gavin was even worse when he showed up,” Ryan said.  “For a while it was Attack Helicopter.”

 

“Well, don’t forget about Affordable Housing,” Ray said.  “Seriously, where the fuck are we?  This side of town is sketch as fuck.”

 

“Sorry, Mr. High Rise, if the accommodations of the crew currently in possession of three-quarters of downtown Los Santos aren’t fitting to your standards,” Ryan joked.

 

“There’s bunk beds in this room, are you serious?” Ray asked, poking his head into one of the bedrooms.

 

“Hey, we’re lucky we have two bathrooms,” Ryan said.

 

“Apocalyptic Harbinger,” Ray suggested.  “Auditory Hallucinations.”

 

“Adolf Hitler was one that kept popping up and Jack would shut it down every time,” Ryan said.

 

“Achievement Hunter,” Ray said, looking at the enormous stack of Xbox games in the living area.

 

“Hey, that’s good,” Ryan said, nodding his approval.  “I’ll run it by Geoff.”

 

“Where is everyone?” Ray asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Ryan shrugged.  “Out and about in Los Santos.  Sometimes they just go out and drive super cars off the stunt ramps.”

 

“There’s four bathrooms at my place,” Ray said, sighing.

 

“Is there really?  Why do you need so many bathrooms?”

 

“If you can afford it, why not?” Ray asked, looking around some more.  He opened the fridge and found it full of marinated steaks, leftover takeout containers, and bottled beer, as well as cans of Diet Coke and Red Bull.  “I guess I could get on board with what we’re eating.  I’m assuming the Diet Coke is yours.”

 

“Yep,” Ryan said.  “That’s a safe guess, definitely.”

 

“I think less people would be scared of you if they knew you were a huge softie under the mask and this is where your HQ is,” Ray said.  “I’m not saying get a penthouse or anything but holy shit, you guys have to be loaded, right?”

 

“Geoff likes to buy shit with our takes.  We’ve got some sweet shit though,” Ryan said.  “You’re probably right, we do need a bigger place.  Geoff and Jack really need their own rooms.  They’ve been fighting and it ends up with _me_ on the couch.”

 

“I’m not saying my apartment is going to be vacant soon or anything, but you could move in with me,” Ray suggested.

 

“I don’t really know what to say to that, honestly,” Ryan said.

 

“Yes?” Ray suggested.

 

“Well, yes, but–” Ryan said.

 

“Sweet,” Ray said.  “Any tips on how to dispose of a body?”

 

“Depends how much you hate the person,” Ryan said.

 

“Let’s pretend I told this guy I wasn’t going to take his shit anymore, and then he threatened me, beat me, kicked me, held me down and used me, then choked me until I passed out,” Ray said.  “And, as if that wasn’t enough, when I did wake up, there was a note saying when he got back, we were going to have a talk about what I did wrong and how I can improve in the future.  Like the relationship we’ve been in for four years can be boiled down to a performance review where I’m the bad employee.”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“You know, sometimes it’s that one last thing that makes you realize what a shitty place you’re in,” Ray said.

 

“You’ve been with him for four years?” Ryan asked.

 

“Since I was 18,” Ray confirmed.  “He was hot, I’m into older men.  And I’m pretty sure he didn’t used to be this insane.  Maybe he was and I was just into it.”

 

“So… I’m thinking maybe some light torture isn’t out of the question, haul him into the desert, let him rot,” Ryan said.  “We’ve got a Dubsta we can use.  If you want my help.”

 

“I don’t _need_ your help, but I’d like you there.  If you want,” Ray said.  “I’ll probably just shoot him, but knives have their merit.”

 

The pair got into a discussion about knives vs. guns, and about 15 minutes later, the door opened and Geoff walked in with Michael.  Ray heard the door and immediately jumped to his feet, picking up one of Ryan’s handguns and pointing it at the sound.

 

“Ray, it’s okay, they’re friends,” Ryan said, gently taking the gun back from him.  “No one’s going to hurt you here.  You’re okay.”  Geoff and Michael shrugged it off and brought the groceries they were carrying to the kitchen.  “The mustache one is Geoff, or Ramsey as you’d hear about him.  And babyface over there is Mogar – that’s–”

 

“Michael?” Ray asked, instantly relaxing and taking a few steps towards the kitchen.

 

“Ray?” Michael asked, dropping the bags he was sifting through and running to him, giving him a big hug.  “What have you been doing?  Where have you been?  Why are you here?  Are you joining Fake AH?”

 

“Um.  I’m fine, yeah.  I don’t know, I might, I guess.  We hadn’t gotten around to formal invitations yet,” Ray said, glancing at Ryan.  “I didn’t know you were Mogar.”

 

“Of course, are you kidding me?  Who else could pull off that kind of pyrotechnical glory?” Michael asked.  “Where have you been?  No one’s heard from BrownMan in what, two-three years now?  Thought you got got, dude.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Ray shrugged.  “I’m back.”

 

“Geoff, hey Geoff, not to pull a major Gavin, but can we keep him?  Please?” Michael asked.  Geoff looked at Ryan.  Ryan nodded.

 

“Yeah, if he wants to join us, he’s more than welcome,” Geoff said.

 

“Are you sure, sir?  You haven’t even seen what I can do,” Ray said, taken aback.

 

“I’ve heard stories,” Geoff said.  “BrownMan was quite the sniper.  Talk of the town a few years back.  I remember telling Jack we should recruit you.  Then you disappeared.  Retired, they said.”

 

“I won’t be back from retirement for a week or two, sir,” Ray said hastily, looking at Ryan, then back to Geoff, “and I might be rusty, but I’m honored.”

 

“Cut the sir crap.  It’s Geoff,” Geoff said.

 

“Or dude, or dickhead, or whatever,” Michael said.

 

“We’ll get out of your hair.  Welcome to the crew, kid,” Geoff said, pulling Michael out of the living room.

 

“Michael and I went to high school together,” Ray finally explained to Ryan.  “He can do some insane things with explosives.”

 

“I know,” Ryan smiled.  “He’s great.  He’s a natural.  He’s getting married.”

 

“No shit?” Ray asked, impressed.  Ryan nodded.  “I’m really glad I met you, Rye.”

 

“I’m glad I met you too.”

 

The next four years passed much better for Ray than the previous four, heisting with Ryan and the Fakes, and he loved it.  Ray invited the rest of Fake AH to come fill the bedrooms in the penthouse that had mysteriously become his own, and he still shot down Funhaus drones in the mornings when he needed a break from it all.

 

That is, until Funhaus really decided they wanted to dive into the city.  They showed no mercy, taking out anyone on Fake AH payroll.  It was like a movie, something that would happen in a book, not stuff that happened in real life.  Michael was the first casualty.  He took three shots to the chest, and he never should have survived.  He and Lindsay, who had just found out she was pregnant, left Los Santos in the middle of the night.  Geoff told the whole crew and essentially the whole city that Mogar was dead.  Ray cried into Ryan’s arms.  Jack started pouring drinks for them all.  Only Gavin knew the truth, that Michael was alive, somewhere else, and while it was Michael’s decision to leave (some would argue, like a little bitch), Geoff didn’t fault him for a second.  Michael deserved the chance to give his daughter a better life than this.

 

“Do we give up?” Ray asked finally, around 5am.  Everyone was still awake, sitting around the living room of the penthouse, as they had been for two or three hours now.

 

“No, never,” Geoff said.  “We can still win this.  We move forward with Michael’s plan.  As George Washington once said, the cavalry’s not coming.  There’s only one way to win this.  Remain relentless until those bastards take flight.  Make it impossible to justify the cost of the fight.  Outrun.  Outlast.  Hit em quick, get out fast.  Stay alive until this horror show is passed.  We’re gonna fly a lot of flags half-mast.”

 

“Raise a glass,” Jack said, toasting her glass that was just ice cubes slowly melting at this point.

 

“We can’t take more than a day to regroup,” Geoff said.  “They’ll hit us again if we let our guard down.”

 

“Michael’s dead,” Jeremy said hollowly.  “He was going to be a father and he’s just dead now.”

 

“Where’s Lindsay?” Jack asked.  Geoff shook his head.  “Understandable.”

 

“I’m not forcing any of you to stay aligned with this crew,” Geoff said.  “It’s a losing battle.  That much is obvious.  If you want to do the smart thing and get out now, I don’t blame you.”  He looked at Ryan when he spoke, telling him, more than anyone else, if he didn’t want to lose Ray, they should get out now.  Funhaus killed Michael.  All respect they ever had was gone.  They wouldn’t hesitate to use Ray and Ryan’s relationship against them.

 

“I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this,” Ryan said.  “We didn’t get to be the Kings of Los Santos by playing it safe.  And Jack, our queen, no disrespect meant.”  Jack just nodded.  “So tonight they took Michael.  And tonight we mourn.  And tomorrow we regroup.  Tomorrow we get those bastards.  We had a treaty with them, we drew our lines in the sand.  This isn’t the first time that line has been crossed, but this attack will not go unavenged.”

 

“It’s what he would have wanted,” Ray said.  “He wouldn’t want us to give up.  He wouldn’t want us to give an inch.”

 

And so they did.  The crew, slightly smaller now, without Michael and Lindsay, but still much larger than Funhaus, fought their hardest.  Jeremy was sent undercover into Funhaus territory.  Geoff went long periods without contact from him, but always assumed no news was good news.

 

The first real blow to Fake AH after Michael was four months later.  Funhaus had lured the entire crew into a battle – so the other half of their crew could take Fake AH’s penthouse.  Separated from their cars and most of their weapons and ammo, the Fakes were essentially sitting ducks.  They went to their old apartment on what Ray still insisted was the ‘sketch side of town’ to regroup, and their only attempt to date to take the penthouse had resulted in Jack’s capture.  The other four had split up with Ray and Ryan drawing most of the heat with them to a safe house in the hills in Vinewood.  The safe house was immediately surrounded.  Geoff and Gavin returned to the old apartment and tried to rally the B-team into a rescue operation, but without the arsenal at the penthouse, the mediocre supplies the B-team had at B-team Ops Base were not enough.  Funhaus stationed a sniper at Fake AH’s old apartment, making it damn near impossible for Geoff and Gavin to leave.  Only the B-team could slip in and out relatively undetected, especially Kdin, a master of disguise.

 

“I never thought we’d die in this apartment,” Geoff said with a sigh.  Gavin said nothing.  Uncharacteristically, he rarely spoke now.  He looked dead, barely dragging himself around the apartment.  “Do you have any regrets?”  No response from Gavin.  “I do.  I regret pulling you into this life.  I regret ever pulling Jack out of her life before this.  You know Jack and I used to be a thing?  We could have been so good together.  Do you think Funhaus will kill her?  I wish I could tell her I still love her.  And Ryan.  He was normal before he joined us.  He was just our IT guy for so long.  Just the thought of killing someone made him physically ill.  I’m still not sure how that flip came around.  Watching him with Ray, though, it’s like a light switch.  He can go from psychopathic killer to that goofy nerd completely in puppy love with that kid in a second.  Ray has so much power over Ryan, he doesn’t even realize.  He’s been through so much, and now this… At least they’re together somewhere.  Maybe there is a life after this one.”

 

“Geoffrey, with all due respect, kindly shut the hell up,” Gavin said quietly.

 

“Sorry, Gav,” Geoff said with another sigh.

 

“At least Michael’s out there somewhere,” Gavin said.

 

“You could have gone with him,” Geoff reminded him.  Michael had begged Gavin to come with him and Lindsay.  Gavin had refused.  It would have been too risky.  Funhaus wouldn’t have bought any excuse for Gavin leaving and definitely would have tracked him down, putting all three of them in danger, not to mention baby Jones.

 

“You know I couldn’t,” Gavin snapped.  “It would’ve been too suspicious.”

 

“I’m sorry for everything,” Geoff said.

 

“I’d rather have been here for the last ten years than not,” Gavin replied.  “Or did you forget I was living on the streets, on the run from the bloody INS, with no papers when you found me?  You saved my life, Geoff.”

 

Ray and Ryan were in a much worse position than Geoff and Gavin.  Matt had been able to warn them a few hours in advance of Funhaus cutting their water and electricity, and they’d bottled as much water as they could, but it wasn’t a lot.  Maybe enough for a few days, but it didn’t matter.  It was just postponing the inevitable.  No one was coming to rescue them.

 

“Do you regret joining Fake AH?” Ryan asked Ray.

 

“Of course not,” Ray said.  “Dying here with you now gave me five years I definitely wouldn’t have gotten if I’d never met you.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Ryan said.  “Matt and Geoff will find a way to get us out of here.”

 

“Rye, let’s face it.  Fake AH’s fate was sealed when we lost Michael,” Ray said.  “We had some fun.  The Grand Heist, that was insane.  Never had more fun than that.”

 

“I didn’t think it would end like this for us,” Ryan said.  “There were so many things I wanted to do.  I wanted to ask you to marry me.  I wanted to take a vacation with you to Georgia and feed you peaches straight off the tree.  I wanted to introduce you to my mom, so I could finally show her I had a good life here.”

 

“If we do get out of here, you goddamn better come through on all that shit,” Ray said.  “Can’t get a guy’s hopes up like that.”

 

“At least we’re together,” Ryan said.

 

“One of us is going to go first,” Ray said.  “It’s pretty unlikely we’ll both starve to death at the same time.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Ryan said again.

 

“Gavin and Lindsay were both with Michael when he died, for all the good it did for anyone,” Ray said.

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said.  “Do you ever wonder about Lindsay?  Where she is, what she’s doing?”

 

“I try not to,” Ray said.  “I’ve known Michael for, like, most of my life.  Well, I had known him…  Longer than any of you.  Way longer than Gavin.”

 

“Him and Gavin had a thing, though…  Like best friend soulmates,” Ryan said.

 

“So why was I the one that was most upset when they told us he was gone?” Ray asked.  Ryan frowned.

 

“That’s… a really good question,” Ryan said, suddenly energized.  “Why do you think that is?”

 

“Gavin’s exactly as emotionless as we always thought he was,” Ray said.

 

“No,” Ryan said.  “Sure, he dissociates on jobs, but not with Michael, never with Michael.  He was _with_ Michael when he died.  Surely he’d be the most grief-stricken of all of us.”

 

“What are you trying to say?” Ray asked.

 

“What if Michael isn’t dead?”

 

“Then it was pretty shitty of Geoff to tell us he was.”

 

“He and Lindsay are gonna have a kid to think about,” Ryan said.  “If one of us survived three bullets to the chest, you can bet your sweet ass we’d be in Atlanta by the time the sun came up.  Fuck that shit, I’m not going to lose you.”

 

“I wouldn’t leave,” Ray said quietly.

 

“Really?”

 

“I’d stand and fight.  This whole crew is the only family I have.  I’m not turning and running like a fucking coward,” Ray said.  “I’ve lived through worse than bullets.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to,” Ryan told him.  “I promised I was going to keep you safe.”

 

“And if you’re going to force me to leave Los Santos against my will, then you’re no better than he was,” Ray snapped.  It hit Ryan like a ton of bricks.

 

“You’re right,” he said quietly.  “You’re right.  I’m so sorry, Ray.  I’m so, so sorry.  I didn’t think of it that way.  I love you so much and I never want to hurt you.  I can’t – I’m so sorry.”

 

“You’re gonna hafta marry me now,” Ray grinned.

 

“Absolutely,” Ryan smiled.

 

“I’m holding you to that,” Ray said.  Ryan kissed him.

 

“Deal.”

 

“New order of business, how do we get Michael’s coward ass back to Los Santos?” Ray asked.

 

“You think we should?  Supposing he is actually alive, what good would he do us?  We are sitting ducks.”

 

“ _If_ he is alive.  They’d never expect him.  Surprise would be on our side.  If he comes for us first, we can take out most of whatever they call their B-team from here.  We pick up Geoff and Vav, take back the penthouse, lock and load into some sexy cars, roll up on the Funhaus HQ in style, right up to their doors and ring the doorbell, then get the fuck rid of them once and for all,” Ray said.  “And if he’s not alive, then we die like men.”

 

“Alright, I’ll try to charge my phone with a potato, so we can try calling him,” Ryan said.

 

Their supplies slowly dwindled more and more while Ryan unsuccessfully tried to run a circuit through a potato.  Ray finally said he remembered something about being able to charge a phone with a car charger and a 9V battery, which somehow managed to get Ryan’s phone some juice.

 

“His phone is disconnected, what now?” Ryan asked Ray.

 

“Try sending him an email?” Ray suggested.

 

“I don’t have his email address,” Ryan replied.

 

“Isn’t it something really embarrassing like mikeyboi87 at aol or something?” Ray guessed.

 

“I’ll allow it,” Ryan said, typing out a quick message from Fake AH’s official email account.

 

“What’s a skeleton crew?” Ray asked, reading over Ryan’s shoulder.  “Where are the skeletons?  Are they coming to rescue us?  Can they bring pizza?”

 

“Should I sign it from me or Geoff?”

 

“Geoff,” Ray said.  “We’re not supposed to know he’s alive.”

 

“Alright, it’s sending,” Ryan said.  “How many more batteries do we have?”

 

“Um, I don’t know, maybe one more,” Ray said.  “Why?”

 

“Was this one from the pack in the kitchen?”

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“Well, there’s one in each smoke detector, and we don’t really need those…” Ryan said.

 

“Okay, whatever, why?”

 

“We don’t know how long it will be before Michael replies, if he does, and I want to call someone and tell them we’re alive, but I don’t want to waste the batteries,” Ryan said.  “What do you think?”

 

“Call Matt,” Ray said.  “Tell him The Plan.  Ask him if the B-team can get our water going again.”

 

“Will do,” Ryan said, dialing.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Matt, it’s Ryan.”

 

“Prove you’re Ryan.”

 

“I called you, prove you’re Matt!” Ryan retorted, annoyed.

 

“I’ll allow it,” Matt said.  “How are things?  Assuming better if you’ve got your phone.”

 

“Worse,” Ryan said.  “Is there any way you can get us back into the water line?”

 

“Kerry and Trevor were supposed to be working on it,” Matt said.  “It’s complicated.  I went over the plans.  They fucked you up pretty good.  Funhaus did, not Kerry and Trevor.  I don’t think.”

 

“Do you think it’s possible Michael’s alive somewhere?” Ryan asked.

 

“If he is, I know absolutely nothing about it,” Matt said.

 

“So he is, and you know everything about it,” Ryan said.

 

“I didn’t say that,” Matt said.

 

“Whatever you say, Matt,” Ryan said.

 

“Does he know anything?” Ray asked.

 

“Who knows?  It’s Matt,” Ryan rolled his eyes.  “Can you please try harder on the water?”

 

“I can’t do anything else unless you want me to get Kerry in a cargobob, land on the roof, and try to evac you, but they’ve got you guys pretty heavily guarded,” Matt said.

 

“We’ll call that Plan B.  If you haven’t heard from Michael in three days, send Kerry in.  We’ll be dead either way,” Ryan said.

 

“Will do, boss,” Matt said.  Ryan hung up on him.

 

“Useless,” Ryan said, tossing his phone down.

 

“Now what?”

 

“Get some sleep while you still can.  It’ll conserve your energy.   I’ll stay up and guard,” Ryan said.

 

“Do you think we could order a pizza?” Ray asked.  Ryan stared at him.  “We have a working phone.  It’s not like it would give away our location, they already know where we are.”  Ryan could see how hungry Ray was and he knew how hungry he was, and considered the pros and cons for a very long minute.

 

“Okay,” Ryan agreed.

 

“Cool.  I’ll ask the guys outside if they want any,” Ray said, moving towards the window they’d put a piece of cardboard in front of after Funhaus had shot it out.  Ryan caught him by the back of the shirt.  “What?”

 

“Are you insane?” Ryan asked.

 

“They’re going to intercept it either way, we may as well order them one of their own,” Ray shrugged, pulling his shirt free of Ryan’s grip and going to the window.  “Hey assholes!”  There was a pause.

 

“Yeah?” came a yell from a few hundred feet into the woods.

 

“We’re gonna order pizza, do you want any?” Ray yelled.

 

“Nah, we’re good, thanks!” came the reply.

 

“Aight, your loss.”  Ray turned back to Ryan.  “They’re good. I’ll have pepperoni.”  Ryan chuckled.

 

A default ringtone played through the safehouse.  Ray looked around for the source, but the only phone they had was Ryan’s and it wasn’t doing anything.

 

“Hello?”  Ryan’s voice.  The room dissolved and Ray opened his eyes.  He was laid on the bed in the master bedroom, Ryan beside him.  Ryan was on the phone.  “He told us you were dead.”

 

“He lied to keep me safe.”  A voice Ray hadn’t heard in months but would never forget was barely audible from Ryan’s phone.  “You wouldn’t have sent that email if you didn’t suspect I was alive.”

 

“It was a Hail Mary at best,” Ryan said.  Ray reached for his glasses from the nightstand.  The sun had set since he’d fallen asleep and there was no pizza coming.  He wasn’t even sure when he’d fallen asleep.  He was only half listening to the conversation.  He hadn’t realized he was this tired.

 

“I’m leaving right now,” Michael said. “Geoff doesn’t want me to, but I can’t let you guys down like this.”

 

“Michael?” Ray finally said a word, disoriented from lack of food and water.

 

“Yeah, it’s Michael,” Ryan said.  “He’s coming.  We’re going to take those bastards down in one final battle.”

 

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” Ray admitted quietly.

 

“You’ll be great,” Ryan said, smiling at him fondly.  “Try to save your strength.  There’s some crackers left, I think.”

 

“Those are for you,” Ray said, stubbornly.

 

“I’m fine.  I want you to eat them,” Ryan replied.   Ray whined as he dragged himself into the kitchen, opening up every cupboard, even though he already knew they were all empty, just in case they’d possibly missed something (unlikely, and even more unlikely he’d find any in the dark kitchen, since they didn’t have electricity).  With their limited water supply, it meant things like pasta were nearly out of the question, but maybe he could convince Ryan to make some.  Ray grabbed the goldfish crackers off the counter and went back into the bedroom.

 

“Can you tell Michael to bring us pizza?” Ray asked.  Ryan laughed, setting his phone down. 

 

“He’ll be here in the morning,” Ryan told him.  “One more night.  We’re getting out of here.  We’re not going to die.”

 

“We’re going to get married,” Ray grinned.  Ryan threw an arm around him and pulled him close.  “Hey, careful with the goods.  Where’d we land on that pizza?”

 

“We’ll get pizza on the way to the penthouse, I promise,” Ryan said.

 

“Can’t we just order pizza?” Ray whined.  “You let me do it in my hallucination.”

 

“No, we cannot order pizza.  We’re not getting a pizza delivery driver killed,” Ryan replied.

 

“Can we use some of the water to make pasta?” Ray whined.  “I’m hungry, Rye.”

 

“I will make pasta,” Ryan agreed.  “This time tomorrow, we’re going to be kings again.”

 

“I have something for you,” Ray announced as they dragged their asses to the kitchen.

 

“You have something for me?” Ryan asked.  “That I don’t know about?”

 

“Yeah,” Ray admitted.

 

“We’ve been cooped up in here for days and you’ve managed to hide something from me?” Ryan asked.

 

“Yeah,” Ray said again.

 

“Okay.  Can I have it?”  Ray had intended to skip to his happy hiding spot and retrieve his present for Ryan, but his energy was at a new low.

 

“Sure, but you have to pick me up and put me on the counter first,” Ray said.  Ryan complied, lifting Ray and setting him down on the center island in the kitchen.  Ray lit the lantern they had hanging from the ceiling.  “Okay, now you have to go get your gift.  It’s in the couch cushions.”  Ryan shook his head, smiling as he walked into the living area, pulling the cushions off the couch before spotting –

 

“How long have you had this?” Ryan asked, standing up with a can of Diet Coke.

 

“I found it in the couch,” Ray said.  “I think I hid it last time we were here.”

 

“I love you,” Ryan said, coming back into the kitchen and kissing Ray on the forehead.  “Will you do me the honor of splitting this with me?”

 

“If you pour it into two cups _and_ take a picture of us doing it for posterity, I’ll do that thing where you link arms and drink,” Ray said.

 

“The newlywed thing?  We’re not married _yet_ ,” Ryan said, opening the can and getting two cups.

 

“If you don’t get that pasta going, I’m going to starve to death before we have the chance to, and not in the funny way,” Ray said seriously.

 

“Okay, okay!” Ryan laughed, fiddling with a pot and one of their remaining bottles of water.

 

“You know what else I think?” Ray asked, taking a sip from the jug of water Ryan had set back down on the counter Ray was sitting on.

 

“What’s that?” Ryan asked, striking a match to light the stove.

 

“I kind of like this living by ourselves thing?” Ray said.  “Besides the fact that we actually almost died here, it was nice to not have Geoff or Gavin poking their heads in all the time.”

 

“We can get our own place,” Ryan agreed, setting the water to boil and turning back to Ray.  “What kind of place were you thinking?”

 

“Well, the penthouse is technically mine…” Ray said.

 

“Yeah, but it’s too big for the two of us, and there’s too much of Gavin’s _crap_ in it for us to make him move out,” Ryan said.  “We could get a nice little house around this size out on the beach in Chumash.”

 

“Full offense, but I do not want to live in any place named _Chumash_ ,” Ray said.  Ryan chuckled as he poured his one can of Diet Coke into two glasses.

 

“Ready?”  Ray nodded, accepting the glass handed to him.  They linked arms and drank, Ray barely able to contain his giggling as Ryan snapped a picture of them.  “The lighting isn’t the best,” Ryan said, showing it to Ray after they untangled their arms.

 

“It’s perfect.  I want it printed, framed, and hung in our living room,” Ray said.  “Someday when we adopt Jeremy, we can tell him the story behind it.”  Ryan barked out a laugh and Ray giggled, carefree as he’d been the day they’d first kissed in Ray’s penthouse.  Why shouldn’t he be?  Michael was alive, they weren’t going to starve to death in the woods, and this goddamn war was going to be over in 24 hours or less.

 

Michael pushed the limits of even his chrome-plated Adder on the drive from Austin to Los Santos.  He knew that Geoff wanted to keep him (and Lindsay and baby Jones) safe, but he never thought Geoff would have let it get this bad without telling him.  He’d expected every day for months to hear news, either that the Fakes needed their wild card back or that the war was over and they could come back to Los Santos. 

 

Was Michael happy in Austin?  Technically, he had a good life.  There was no real danger to them in Austin, though that didn’t stop Michael’s constant paranoia that one of their enemies would have followed him there.  He texted Lindsay constantly throughout the day when he was at work, and if he hadn’t heard from her in an hour or two, he got panicky, and once scared the crap out of her by stealth sneaking into the house because he was afraid someone had taken her hostage, when actually she’d just taken an afternoon nap and let her phone die.  Certainly it was a much better environment for them to raise baby Jones in, but Michael didn’t want it, and he was pretty sure Lindsay didn’t either. 

 

Michael wanted his old life.  He wanted the old days, getting blackout drunk with Gavin and Jeremy in the penthouse, Lindsay laughing with them over her beer.  He wanted the games of Mario Party with Gavin and Ray.  He wanted Team Lads Forever.  He wanted to have to defend his Lad status even after marriage and fatherhood.  He wanted Jack giving them motherly advice, and Geoff’s piss-poor attempts at fatherly advice, which were usually both streams of completely conflicting _terrible_ advice.  He wanted the times he and Ryan would go into the desert for target practice together and end up talking about serious stuff  they’d never admit later.  He wanted all the heists, the good ones and the bad ones.  He wanted all the inside jokes the crew had acquired over the years.  He wanted the times they’d burst out randomly singing some bad rendition of a 90’s pop song during a job because someone said something too close to a lyric.

 

Michael wanted everything he’d ever had, and he wanted it with Lindsay, and he wanted it in Los Santos, and he didn’t care about anything else.  They’d work out the details of trying to raise a child within the most powerful crime ring on the West Coast later.  It wasn’t important.  If they could run the second largest city in the US, they could certainly figure out how to raise a kid.  Geoff or Ryan probably had some transferable skills.  They were the ones that knew how to cook.  He wanted to be around when Gavin finally found someone.  He wanted to be around when Ryan and Ray finally stopped fucking around and admitted to everyone just how serious their relationship had been since day one.  He wanted to be around when Geoff finally told Jack how he’d felt about her all this time, no matter how much they argued.

 

It seemed to take so much longer to get back to Los Santos than it had to leave.  To be fair, that might have been because he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness and Lindsay had been driving as they left, and now he was so alone, driving into the world’s stupidest rescue mission.  There was a pretty good chance he would get all the way to Los Santos just to get gunned down a second time, but he wasn’t about to not try and have his family definitely die at the hands of those Funhaus assholes.

 

Ray woke up as the sun was rising in Los Santos to the sound of what sounded like a leafblower starting outside.  Ray opened his eyes and saw Ryan sitting next to him on the bed, a grin spread wide on his already painted face, ready to rock and roll.  Then the bullets started hitting.  Within minutes, the sound died completely and there was a harsh knock on the front door.

 

“Let’s go, assholes, we’ve got a war to win.”  Ray had never gotten out of bed so fast.

 

\--

 

“You know, normally, I’d complain about being the third person in a two-seat vehicle.  Today, couldn’t care less.  Michael, you are the best person in the entire universe, I’m totally sorry for all the bad things I said behind your back when I thought you were dead,” Ray announced, taking enormous bites of pepperoni pizza, as he sat on Ryan’s lap in the Adder, and they drove around Los Santos, not trying to be subtle in the slightest.  Michael was revving the Achievement Hunter green smoke and laying on the customized horn, daring anyone to try to take them out.  If word hadn’t gotten back to Funhaus about Mogar’s return before, it certainly had now.

 

“You were talking shit about me when I was dead?” Michael asked.  “C’mon, man, I bought you pizza.”

 

“No, dude, you’re totally right,” Ray said.  “You’re the best.  How’s things?”  Ryan narrowly avoided hitting Ray in the face with the can of Diet Coke he was trying to consume, not the easiest thing to do at an average speed of 80 mph.

 

“Fine,” Michael said, trying not to laugh, and unable to stop himself from smiling.  “Tell me when you’re done stuffing your face.  You’ve got a much better chance of taking out the sniper guarding this place than I do.”

 

“Sweet,” Ray said, stuffing the rest of the piece of crust he was holding into his mouth and chewing furiously.  “Is this for me?” he asked, mouth full, pointing to the Diet Coke Ryan was holding, before just plucking it from his hand and chugging the rest of it.  If it had been anyone but Ray, they’d have been dead, but Ryan just smiled at him fondly.  Ray burped loudly.  “Where is this asshole?  My body is ready.”  Michael cut into an alley, narrowly avoiding damaging his car, and shoved it into park.

 

“Matt and I had a very long conversation on my way here,” Michael explained to Ryan as Ray climbed up the ladder they were parked next to.  “I don’t have the authority to fire him, but I swear to God I almost tried.  I can’t believe he would just let you guys die out there.  What a fuck.”

 

“There wasn’t much he could do,” Ryan said.  “We could have made a stand.  We should have made a stand when we first got there, but I was too scared.”

 

“You’re not scared of shit,” Michael scoffed.  “You’re the goddamn Mad King.”

 

“Not since you’ve been gone,” Ryan said.

 

“Since you’ve been gone…” Michael sang softly.  Ryan chuckled.

 

“I’ve been so scared of losing Ray.  If we could lose _you_ , we could lose anyone,” Ryan said.  “I had to be the Mad King, the Vagabond, the voice of reason, the intelligent one, and say shit like ‘we can’t let Michael’s sacrifice go to waste’ and some really inspiring shit about battling on amidst hardships.  I _had to_.  That’s my character now.  Do you even remember when I was just Ryan the IT guy or was that before you got here?”

 

“Yeah, I remember,” Michael said quietly, all of it hitting him a little too hard.

 

“I wanted _so bad_ to turn fucking tail and just go home,” Ryan said.

 

“Why didn’t you?” Michael asked.  “Geoff would have let you.”

 

“Ray would never leave while there was still a fight to be fought,” Ryan said.

 

“We used to joke about how you’d met your match with him, but goddamn, you really did, didn’t you?” Michael asked.  Ryan smirked.  A shot went off above them, and they could hear Ray crowing about his headshot.  Ryan laughed.  “If you could keep Ray, but also go back to being just Ryan, would you?”

 

“Not in a million years,” Ryan grinned.  Michael smiled as well.

 

“Neither would I.”

 

The car door opened and Ray threw his gun in ahead of himself.  Michael caught it as Ray threw himself dramatically into the vehicle.

 

“What have I told you about throwing guns around?” Ryan asked.

 

“What?  The safety’s totally on,” Ray said with a shrug.  Michael checked the gun and turned the safety on, rolling his eyes.  “Whatever, close enough.  I got the dude anyway, let’s go get Geoff and Vav out of there.”

 

“We’re supposed to get some kind of signal from the B-team,” Michael said, backing the car out of the alley with much more care than he’d pulled in with.

 

“Hold on, that’s the only guy that’s guarding the apartment?” Ryan asked.

 

“According to Matt, yeah,” Michael said.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ray asked, mouth half full with pizza again.  “They can’t take out one guy with a sniper rifle and we’re fucking actually starving to death surrounded by half a fuckin army?  Bullshit.”

 

“Half a fuckin army that can be taken out by one guy with a minigun,” Ryan added.  “We’d’ve been out of there if we’d had the bullets.”

 

“Yeah, we tried,” Ray agreed.  “But, like, we had four rounds in my sniper rifle and a handful of shotgun shells.”

 

“I think there was a pistol in the kitchen that had half a clip, too,” Ryan said.  “But fucking _Matt_ wouldn’t get surveillance and tell us how many of them there were so we could come up with a _plan_.”

 

“Who the fuck is Matt working for, anyway?” Ray rolled his eyes.

 

“Where are Jack and Jeremy?” Michael asked.

 

“Jeremy’s undercover and Jack got captured,” Ryan said.  “Last we heard, anyway.  They could both be upstairs having a fucking good time for all we know.”

 

“And the rest of the B-team?” Michael asked.

 

“I have no idea,” Ryan said.  “Matt mentioned Trevor and Kerry when I talked to him last night, but I don’t know about the rest of them.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael said, pulling into the parking garage under the OG Fake AH apartment.  “God, this place is like, memories.  Haven’t been here in years.”

 

“Yeah, like five years,” Ray said, “because this part of town is fucking terrible, and also, _you’re welcome_.”

 

The three of them piled out of the car.  Michael opened the trunk to reveal his small personal arsenal, and the other two took enough bullets to refill their weapons.

 

“Oh, also, Geoff told me not to come back, so he won’t be happy to see me,” Michael mentioned as they rode the elevator up to the apartment.

 

“Of fucking course he did,” Ray rolled his eyes.  “What is with all the fucking cowards in this crew?”  He punched the code to get into the apartment with much more force than necessary and swung the door open.

 

“Rise and shine, motherfuckers, it’s time to win this shit,” Michael shouted as they walked in.

 

“Micool?” Gavin called.  There was a small crash, a loud thump, a couple swears from Geoff, and Gavin came skittering into the main area, barely registering Ray and Ryan before jumping on Michael.  Michael caught him and hugged him. 

 

“I missed you boi,” Gavin said.

 

“I missed you too, Gav,” Michael said.  A loud and clumsy Geoff came into the room.  “Hey boss.”  Michael set Gavin back down.

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Geoff asked angrily.  Or rather, he looked and sounded angry, but Michael and Ryan both could tell he was at least somewhat relieved.

 

“Saving your ass,” Michael said.  “Get some clothes on, we’ve got more shit to do.”  Ray was already digging around in the fridge.  Ryan had made a beeline for a hot shower.

 

“Where’s Ryan?” Ray asked, cracking open a can of Red Bull as Geoff turned back to his bedroom to get dressed.

 

“Taking a shower, I think,” Michael said.  “Someone is.”

 

“Oh.  I’ll join him,” Ray said with a nod, heading that direction.  Michael followed Geoff into the master bedroom where he was changing.

 

“They were dying, Geoff,” Michael said, putting a finger in Geoff’s chest before he could even speak.  “They were starving with no water and I took out all the guys surrounding that place in three minutes.  There was one sniper guarding this apartment.  Matt is even more unhelpful than he ever has been.  What the fuck have you guys been doing?”

 

“Don’t give me a lecture about how I operate my crew.  You ran.  You lost that right,” Geoff said, more ice in his voice than Michael had ever heard.

 

“I ran because I was fucking selfish and scared, and I thought you guys could hold it together.  Clearly that’s a no,” Michael said.

 

“I know, I fucked up.  I left Ryan and Ray out in the woods to die.  You want to wear the big boy pants and try running this city?  It’s not fucking easy, Michael,” Geoff snapped.  “I was working on a plan, okay?”

 

“Funhaus is run by like four dudes in their mom’s garage,” Michael shot back.  “This is the most powerful crew on the West Coast.  You fuckin deliver them back to the hills where they belong or you wipe their asses out.”

 

“I tried, Michael,” Geoff said with a deep sigh.  “We were winning.  We were knocking them back at every angle.  They tricked us and they took the penthouse.  We tried to get it back, but they booby trapped it all to hell.  They got Jack.  Gavin got hit with one of the traps – tear gas, and they chased Ryan and Ray into the woods.  I was just going to take a few days to let Gavin recover.  I thought Ryan and Ray could handle their own situation, they always have before.  I had to figure out how to get Jack and Jeremy out of fucking enemy territory.  Sometimes you have to prioritize and _I fucked up_.  I get it.  I wasn’t about to rally back to the penthouse alone, and the B-team is no help as always.  Except maybe Kdin, who was bringing us supplies.  I think we have enough shit to make a decent attempt on the penthouse, then we can go for Jack and Jeremy.”

 

“Okay,” Michael agreed.  “Got a plan?”

 

“Yeah, I think so,” Geoff said.  “It involves a helicopter.”

 

“Of course it does,” Michael said.  “And Gavin’s going to drive it.”

 

“I think Ryan’s going to fly it actually,” Geoff said.  “I’ll go with RnR, land on the roof and try to go down from the top.  You and Gavin take your car over and try to get in from the garage.  Full communication.  I think we have a few working comms left.  I can have Kdin bring everything they have left at B-team Ops.”

 

“What kind of booby traps are we looking at?” Michael asked.

 

“There were mild proximity bombs in the garage last time.  Not enough to hurt the building but enough to blow you back.  Tear gas everywhere hooked to tripwires.  The roof is probably a minefield.  I don’t know if I trust the elevator to not be rigged.  You two will have a hell of a time,” Geoff said.

 

“I’m your fucking bomb specialist, I think I can handle whatever the fuck Funhaus can come up with,” Michael scoffed.

 

“Dude, I’m glad you’re back,” Geoff said, now fully clothed, and pulling Michael into a hug.

 

“We both know I’ve always kind of resented you trying to be my dad and shit, but–” Michael began.

 

“Don’t spoil it, cocksucker,” Geoff told him, still hugging him.  “Gavin blames me for encouraging you to leave, but I just want what’s best for you and Lindsay.”

 

“I know you do,” Michael said, patting Geoff’s back.  “Everything’s going to be fine, we’re going to own this shit.  Lindsay and I will come back home, here, and you can play Grampa.”

 

“Me?  Grampa?” Geoff asked, choked up and pulling away from Michael to look him in the face.

 

“Well, you know, like… if you wanna. S’not like Linz and I have good parents or anyshit,” Michael said.  “Whether I liked it or not, you’ve always been like father to me.  You know that.”

 

“You know what, kid?  We’re gonna win this for Taylor,” Geoff said, grabbing two pistols from his dresser and pushing them into the holsters on his belt.  “Let’s do this.”

 

“What the – Geoff, we’re not naming her Taylor,” Michael groaned, following Geoff out into the living room.

 

“Gavin said you were,” Geoff said.  “Boy or girl, doesn’t matter, Taylor Jones.”

 

“Gavin can suck a dick,” Michael threw back.  “Where is that cocksucker, anyway?”  Geoff looked around, confused, as they’d left him in the living room, and he’d already been ready to go ten minutes ago.  A British lilt (the overused fanfiction word that we’re going to let it slide this one time and not the probably made up soda Gavin used to drink as a child) met their ears as they strained to listen.

 

“Course I am.  No, I’m telling _you_ , bring me a bleeding helicopter, you idiot!” Gavin was saying.  Michael followed the sound into the bedroom the pair of them used to share, still complete with bunkbeds.  Gavin was sitting on the top one, trying his best not to shout down the phone to whoever he was speaking to.  He hung up with an exasperated sigh.  “Toss.”

 

“What’s up, Gav?” Michael asked, confused.

 

“Funhaus has Pegasus on lockdown, they won’t bring us a helo,” Gavin frowned sourly.

 

“I’ll have Kdin call Lester and see if the two of them can get something,” Geoff said, stepping out of the room, leaving Gavin and Michael alone together.  Michael climbed up to the top bunk and sat next to Gavin, letting his head fall onto Gavin’s.

 

“I missed you, boi,” Michael said again, for lack of any other conversation starter.  “I’m glad you’re okay and shit, cuz if I ran away like a punk bitch and you ended up dead, I would never forgive myself.”

 

“I’m okay,” Gavin said quietly, throwing his arm across Michael’s shoulders as they sat.  “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Michael nodded.  “Austin’s fine and whatever, but it’s not home.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Michael said again.  “Linz and I are gonna move back.”

 

“Isn’t that not safe?” Gavin asked.  “To have them in the middle of all this?”

 

“You’ve seen Lindsay, she can handle herself.  She’d be up in Vinewood Hills blowing doors in with C4 and an SMG right now if she needed to be,” Michael said.  “And you just know the Gents would be great with kids.  It’s not like there’s not _someone_ who can look after her when we’re all on a job, and how often does that happen anyway?  It looks like Kdin’s the only one on the B-team Geoff’s not going to kill.  You think Kdin is good with kids?”

 

“Yeah, probably, I can see her being a babysitter in a past life,” Gavin said.  “But Geoff’s not going to kill the B-team, lighten up.”

 

“Oh, right, yeah,” Michael agreed sarcastically.  “They all left Ray and Ryan to die, you know that, right?”

 

“We didn’t have another option,” Gavin said, his voice like stone, unwavering, and so unlike his normal dulcet tones.  (More overused words that I actually had to look up to make sure I was using them correctly.)

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“You weren’t here, alright?  You don’t know what it’s been like,” Gavin snapped, retracting his arm from Michael and scooting away from him on the bed.  “I’ve never seen Geoff so scared.”

 

“You could have called me.  You know I would have been back in a second if I’d known what was happening,” Michael said.

 

“Why don’t you ask Geoff?” Gavin said bitterly.

 

“Because I’m asking you,” Michael said.  Gavin didn’t respond, so Michael switched his tactic.  “What about you?  Have you been okay?”  Gavin knew full well what Michael meant, but pretended not to.

 

“Yeah, course, boi, I’m bloody top,” Gavin said, still bitter.  “Getting shot at and, oh, that’s right, tear gas, that was one I didn’t expect.  Did you know I hurled blood for two days?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Michael said, but like a question, as he didn’t feel he needed to explain himself or apologize further.  “What do you fucking want from me?  I goddamn said I was sorry already.”  Gavin didn’t know what to do or say suddenly and got overwhelmed and betrayed by his own brain, not for the first or last time.  Gavin stuttered out something that wasn’t even Gavin’s usual stock of fake words and then stopped talking altogether.  He couldn’t breathe, even though he was breathing.  His eyes were leaking tears, his nose was dripping.  He was 28 years old and he was crying on the top of a bunkbed like a four year old.  Michael knew, he’d seen Gavin do this dozens of times over the countless years they’d known each other (was it seriously something like six years?  That’s insane).  Michael felt the bunkbed buckle under the force of his movement, but he closed the gap between himself and Gavin, hugging him, pulling him close, letting Gavin feel his heartbeat, breathing deeply and calmly so Gavin could regulate his own body, all without saying anything.  Gavin sobbed into Michael’s shoulder for minutes.  No one disturbed them, and if they had, the glare they would have been met with from Michael would have been enough to send them away without saying anything.

 

“Thanks, Michael,” Gavin finally said.  “For saving us.”

 

“No problem,” Michael said.

 

“Had a lot of those since you were away,” Gavin admitted, pulling away from Michael now that he was steady on his own.  “Geoff and Jack aren’t as good at it as you are.”

 

“But they try,” Michael agreed.  “They care about you.”

 

“Yeah, they do.”

 

“Are you good to storm the penthouse today?  It’s okay if you’re not, Gav, we can manage without you,” Michael said.

 

“You would not,” Gavin said, obstinately.

 

“I said we would manage, not that it would be easy,” Michael said, hopping down off the top bunk.

 

Geoff’s plan was simple enough to pull off in theory.  Kdin flew the crew in a helicopter and brought every last bit of supplies left at B-Team Ops with her, which wasn’t much.  While the A-Team made a move on the penthouse, the B-Team was going to be setting up some serious surveillance on Funhaus’s headquarters, which pretty much hinged on whether they could get a hold of Jeremy or not.  Geoff and the crew hadn’t heard from Jeremy in weeks, besides Matt, who said he’d checked in after Jack’s capture, but no one was about to believe anything Matt said.  Geoff nearly fired him.

 

Ryan, Ray, and Geoff got in the helicopter Kdin had brought while Michael and Gavin headed to Michael’s Adder.  Subtlety was not what they were going for with this.  They were all wearing comms, so everyone could hear everyone else’s conversations.

 

“We’re going to do a drive-by and see if we can see anything suspicious in the windows,” Ryan said, maneuvering the helicopter.

 

“Okay, good, we’re pulling in the garage right now.  Everything looks normal, but I’m on the lookout,” Michael said, turning the corner and pulling his Adder into the garage which opened for him immediately.  The wreckage from the crew’s last attempts were still there.  Jack’s burned out Entity XF was still sitting haphazardly across two parking spots and Ryan’s Zentorno was similarly looking worse for wear.  “Careful, Gav,” Michael warned him as they got out.

 

“Everything looks quiet upstairs,” Geoff announced.  “Commence landing.”

 

Michael and Gavin navigated a few very obvious traps in the garage, though most looked like they’d already been set off, and made their way to the elevator.

 

“Do we risk the elevator?” Michael asked.

 

“I wouldn’t,” Geoff replied.  Michael looked at Gavin.  Gavin shrugged.  Michael called the elevator and it slowly made its way down the building.

 

“Other people live in this building besides us,” Michael said.  “If the elevator was rigged, it’s probably only rigged when you dial for penthouse, right?”

 

“Makes sense,” Gavin said.  Michael pushed the button for the apartment under theirs and the elevator zoomed upwards.  There was a loud bang from their comms and Ray swore loudly.

 

“Jesus Christ, that was close.  These explosives are not fucking around,” Ray said.  The elevator dinged at their destination but instead of getting out, Michael slammed the button to jam the elevator where it was.

 

“What are you doing?” Gavin asked.

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Michael replied, using the end of his assault rifle to beat the trapdoor on the ceiling of the elevator.  “Get over here.”  Gavin hesitated but allowed Michael to boost him through the hole in the ceiling.  “You should be looking at the inside of our penthouse elevator door.”

 

“Yeah, it looks fine,” Gavin said.  “I don’t think it’s rigged at all.”

 

“I’m not risking it,” Michael said, jumping and grabbing the edges of the hole and struggling to pull himself through.  “I’m gonna be a father.”

 

“How are we going to get the doors open?” Gavin asked.

 

“I dunno, if only we had an expert hacker here in this elevator shaft that could help with this shit,” Michael said sarcastically.

 

“Oh yeah, that’s me, innit?” Gavin laughed.  A few wires reconnected here and there and the doors slid open.  Ray was standing in front of them, waiting.

 

“Slowpokes,” he declared lazily.

 

“Is it safe?” Michael asked.

 

“The Gents are doing a sweep,” Ray told them.  “I think it’s deserted.  Funhaus probably doesn’t think we’re stupid enough to try to bust into here twice.”

 

“Or they’re running scared now Mogar’s back from the dead,” Gavin suggested.

 

“Could be,” Michael agreed.  “How we doin, Gents?”

 

“There’s a lot of fuckin rooms in this house,” Geoff complained.

 

“Sorry the accommodations aren’t to your liking,” Ray said.  “You guys can all move back to the old apartment if you want.  Ryan and I will stay here by ourselves.  I found out this last week, I really like not having you guys around all the time.”  Michael laughed.  “Seriously, though.”

 

“No, seriously,” Michael agreed.  “The one good thing about Austin was the privacy.  Not that I could ever enjoy it, because I was paranoid as shit that someone was going to just show up and kill us at any second, but, you know.”

 

“My side’s clear,” Ryan said.  “Meet you all at the weapons room?”

 

“Be right there,” Michael replied, leading the Lads from the living room down the hall.

 

“You know, I expected one guy,” Geoff said, sounding almost disappointed.  “At least one guy.”

 

“It’s like I said, Funhaus is run by four guys out of their mom’s garage.  They don’t have guys to spare, and they’re about 80% intimidation tactics.  I’m honestly surprised Jack and Jeremy aren’t here having a good time,” Michael said.  “I will need to know how Jack hasn’t escaped yet.  It’s been, what, a week?”

 

“Yeah, a week,” Ryan agreed.  “She seemed fine.  They took her alive, for sure.  She went kicking and screaming, talking shit the whole way.”

 

“Jack is the smuggest bitch when dealing with Funhaus,” Gavin said.

 

“She’s like, ‘Sup, Bitch Losers’ every time we see them,” Michael laughed.  “No way she isn’t just over there fucking shit up.”

 

“Ray??” Ryan’s voice came from down the hall.

 

“Yeah?” Ray replied.

 

“Was this room always…. Burned?” Ryan asked.  Ray approached him and realized where he was.

 

“Oh, yeah, I burned that,” Ray agreed.  “How’d you get in there?  It was locked.”

 

“Funhaus must’ve blown the lock,” Ryan said.  “Why…”

 

“If your ex was as bad as mine, wouldn’t you?” Ray replied, taking the door handle from Ryan and closing the door.  “Never got around to cleaning it up.”  Ryan had never found out what had truly happened with Ray and his ex.  Ray had handled the entire situation with very little help from Ryan.  Ryan had been at the apartment when Ray’s ex had returned from his trip, and Ray had been ready for him.  Ray had taken his ex down the hall of the apartment, and Ryan had done his best to ignore the screams.  Ray had returned to the living room after quite some time, and Ryan had helped him get rid of the body.  The rest was all Ray.

 

“I would have helped you,” Ryan told him quietly enough that their mics wouldn’t pick it up, as they walked to the weapons room to meet up with the others.

 

“I know, but some things I had to do myself,” Ray replied.  “I knew I needed you there, because I knew I was going to forgive him if you weren’t.  But execution after reading someone a list of their sins?  The first time I did that, I was 16.  Piece of cake.”

 

“We all really should be much more scared of you than we are,” Ryan replied.  Ray nodded.

 

“Are you two done sucking each other’s dicks?  We have a war to win,” Geoff interrupted, annoyed.

 

“Do we have time?” Ray asked as a joke, and Geoff’s frustrated groan was enough for him.  “Save it for when we get back.”

 

“We’re just going to get up there and Jack’s going to be standing in the door waiting for us,” Ryan said.  “And she’s going to say these three things.  ‘What took you so long?’ ‘Hi Michael’ ‘Funhaus is a bunch of bitch losers’.”

 

“Alright, assholes, we’re wasting daylight.  Lock and load, we’re headed up to the hills,” Geoff said, pulling his phone out to call Kdin.  “She better have my information.”

 

“You can’t fire Kdin,” Gavin complained as Geoff walked away.  Ryan, Ray, and Gavin took weapons from their stash.  “I half expected all this to be gone.  They had our base captured.  Why didn’t they take it?”

 

“They’re fuckin stupid,” Michael snorted, grabbing some explosives.  “I hope Jack is kicking their asses.”

 

“She definitely is,” Ryan assured him.

 

“Do we have a plan?” Ray asked.

 

“Geoff didn’t say anything specific,” Michael said.  “Kick ass, take names, that kind of thing.”

 

“Can I fly the helicopter?” Gavin asked.

 

“The helicopter is a little broken,” Ryan admitted.  “We might have landed near a proximity mine.”

 

“I vote my original plan was good,” Ray said.

 

“What was that?” Gavin asked.

 

“Roll up to Funhaus HQ in some sexy cars, ring their fuckin doorbell, and kick their asses,” Ray said.

 

“Simple, easy to remember,” Michael agreed.  “The garage looked pretty trashed.  Who still has a working vehicle?”

 

“In the garage?  Probably your Adder, Jeremy’s X80, a few motorcycles, and the Roosevelt?” Ryan guessed.  “I know my Zentorno blew up with Jack’s Entity.”

 

“What about my Kurama?” Michael frowned.

 

“Kinda got blown up a little bit.  I’ll call the insurance company about it eventually,” Ryan said, feigning nonchalance.

 

“Let’s roll up on the Roosevelt, that’d be class,” Gavin said.

 

“Only room for 6, and there’s seven of us,” Ray reminded them.

 

“Lil J can ride on the roof,” Michael suggested.

 

“He’s small, we can fit him,” Ryan agreed.

 

“I’ll sit in Ryan’s lap,” Ray offered, as usual.

 

“Are you assholes ready to go?” Geoff asked, annoyed.  “Time is wasting.”

 

“We’d know if she was dead, Geoff,” Ryan told him.  “She’s fine.  She can handle herself.  Always has.”

 

“I know that!” Geoff protested.

 

“Alright, let’s go.  Who’s driving?” Michael asked.

 

“It’s your car, why don’t you drive?” Ryan suggested.

 

“Done.”

 

The drive into Vinewood Hills wasn’t exactly quick.  It was a short distance, but Michael laid on the custom horn as they made their way into Funhaus territory.  Their main building was a boring two story house over a garage in Vinewood Hills, hidden behind a bunch of trees.  Fake AH knew where it was, they’d been there a few times, back in the day.  (Geoff and Bruce had been friends back in the day, they had quarterly luncheons.)

 

Geoff hopped out of the passenger seat as soon as Michael put the car in park.  Michael laid on the custom horn, playing the tune most of the way through while Geoff walked up to the two garage doors facing them.

 

“Bruce!  It doesn’t have to end this way!” Geoff yelled.  “Give her back and we’ll forget all of this ever happened.”

 

“Geoff!” a voice yelled from a speaker on the side of the house.

 

“Yeah, it’s Geoff, and the fuckin rest of Fake AH.  Give us back our people, you fuckin assholes,” Michael said, getting out of the car.  Ryan opened the back door as he dismounted, and Gavin and Ray piled out.  “Mogar is fuckin back from the dead, and I’m gonna rip you a goddamn new one.” 

 

A alarm sounded briefly as the garage door opened.  Standing behind it, ready for battle, were Bruce, Adam, and the Willemses.  Behind them, Lawrence had a gun on Jack.  Jeremy was further back, hulking in a corner.

 

“Don’t make her kick your asses.  This can all be very easy for you,” Geoff told Bruce.

 

“Don’t you think if she could, she would have already?” Bruce asked.  Geoff locked eyes with Jack behind Bruce’s back, she blinked once, and swiveled her gaze to Michael.

 

“I’ve known her longer than I’ve known any of your sorry asses, and if there’s one thing I know about Jack Pattillo, she can beat yours to Kingdom Come.  She’s just waiting for the signal,” Geoff said back to Bruce.

 

“What’s the signal?” Bruce asked.  There was the sound of a body crumpling behind him.  Bruce turned around and Lawrence was on the floor in a heap.  Jack had the gun and casually tucked it into her shorts.

 

“I don’t know, I was waiting for her signal,” Geoff replied.  Jack sauntered around Bruce, Kovic, and the Willemses to join Geoff.

 

“Took you long enough,” Jack said to him.

 

“Did they hurt you?” Geoff asked her seriously.

 

“These bitch losers?  Of course not,” Jack smiled, sending a dead look back to Funhaus.  “Nothing I can’t handle.  They got the wrong person, though.  Ray’s the one they’re really after.”  Ryan, without hesitating, sidestepped slightly to block Ray from Funhaus’s trajectories.

 

“Why do they want Ray?” Geoff asked, confused.  Jack looked at Funhaus, inviting them to answer the question.

 

“He’s the one shooting our drones!” James burst out.  “We’re trying to work here and those drones are expensive.”

 

“Don’t send your shitty drones over my apartment,” Ray snorted.  “I’ve been shooting your dumb drones for six years, why are you so worked up about it now?”

 

“We’re trying to work!” James repeated.

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Michael spat.  “Geoff, are we gonna kill them or not?  I’ve got three big scars on my chest that say I get to have at least one kill today.”

 

“Alright, look, stop shooting down the drones, and we’ll let it go,” Adam said, spreading his hands in front of him to indicate he didn’t want to fight.

 

“I don’t think you understand.  You killed me,” Michael seethed.  “You killed Mogar, so me, my wife, and my _unborn daughter_ had to run away from our home and our city, leaving the rest of our family here to wait for death.  You cornered my boys, you chased them into the woods, and turned off their water.  You’ve crossed the fucking line, Funhaus, give me one reason not to rev my minigun and take the five of you down right now.”

 

“There’s six of us,” James said.

 

“You’re fucking stupid,” Michael shot back.  “Jeremy, get in the car, we’re going home.”  Jeremy stood up from leaning on the wall in the back and walked calmly around Funhaus to stand behind Michael and Geoff.

 

“Look, okay, we can sit down and talk treaty, but I’m talking to Geoff, and Geoff only. Send your dogs home,” Bruce said.

 

“I’ll talk, but Jack stays with me,” Geoff said.

 

“Fine,” Bruce agreed.  “Unarmed.”

 

“You know that’s not going to happen,” Jack scoffed.  Gavin had already handed her more than enough weapons, and she was ready to fight, not that she wasn’t perfectly capable unarmed.

 

“Michael, stand down,” Geoff told him.  Michael practically laughed at the order.  “Take Ryan and the Lads home.  We’ll be fine.  Bruce will lend us a car, won’t you, Bruce?”

 

“… Fine,” Bruce relented.

 

“No, no, it’s fine, take the boys home,” Geoff said to Michael’s protests.  “We can handle this.  Get Lindsay, bring her back.  Take one of the jets, if these assholes will drop the jam on Pegasus, you’ll get there faster.”

 

“But Geoff–” Michael continued to protest. 

 

“Michael,” Geoff replied.  “Go.”  Michael shot a death glare at the Funhaus boys (but not Elyse, never Elyse, she’s mostly likeable), and got back in the Roosevelt.  The Lads followed him without major objection, and Ryan grabbed onto the side, still very intimidating in his full facepaint.  Ryan and the Lads left back down the dirt path to the main road to civilization. 

 

“What are you playing at, Ramsey?” Adam asked.

 

“The kids don’t like it when Mommy and Daddy sink our teeth in,” Geoff said, grinning.  Funhaus looked terrified.  “What say we have this chat over a nice glass of whiskey?”  James helped Lawrence up from the ground where he was starting to come around, and Bruce brought his guests upstairs to the dining room.  The whiskey was cheap, and Geoff sighed, but drank it anyway.  “Did they treat you okay, Jack?”

 

“They were gentlemen when they wanted to be,” Jack replied cryptically.

 

“How much am I going to have to spend on therapy to apologize for letting them take you?” Geoff asked her, seriously.

 

“Nah, it was not terrible.  I’ve had much worse,” Jack replied.  “Funhaus are a bunch of bitch losers.”

 

“How long have you known Michael was alive?” Geoff asked her.  Funhaus was buzzing around them, definitely not oblivious to the conversation, but not getting in a word anyway.  Lawrence was lying on the couch with a cold pack to his head where Jack had hit him.  James, Elyse, and Adam were speaking in hushed tones, and Bruce was just getting frustrated.

 

“What everyone else just overlooked:  What happened to Lindsay?” Jack asked.  “She’d never go out without a fight, pregnant or not, if Michael was dead.  The only thing that made sense was that they ran with their lives to make a better future for their family.”  Geoff nodded.  “You okay?”

 

“Just thinking about what Michael told me earlier,” Geoff shook his head, taking another hard sip of his whiskey.  “That little girl is going to be the most loved kid in history.”

 

“You know, we’re still here,” Bruce interjected, annoyed.

 

“Oh yeah,” Geoff said, turning his attention back to Bruce.  “Good point.  So, treaty.  We’ve done this before.”

 

“We know where the lines are, and we’re sorry, stop shooting our drones and we’ll stay on our side of the line,” Adam said.

 

“Not good enough.  You almost killed my boy and you tortured my girl,” Geoff said.  “Now you have to pay.”

 

“We’re trying to work!” James complained a third time.

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Geoff asked.  “We’re not playing games, here, this is work, James.”

 

“No, we’re actually trying to work,” Bruce relented.  “We knew we could never get the funds that you guys have from this side of the city, so we tried picking up some legit cash on the side… By using our drones to do deliveries for Amazon.”  Silence followed Bruce’s statement for a solid twenty seconds, then Geoff burst out into his very distinctive wheezing laugh.

 

“Jesus Christ!” Geoff wheezed, still laughing.  “Holy shit, Bruce, you’re fucking kidding, right?”

 

“I don’t see how this is funny,” Bruce frowned.

 

“Alright, we’ll stop shooting the drones,” Geoff laughed.  “Give Jack some keys, we’ve gotta get home.  Oh my God, what the fuck, imagine killing someone over Amazon deliveries.”

 

“I’ve killed people for less,” Jack commented, taking the keys Adam handed her.

 

“Yeah, you have,” Geoff agreed.  “I was thinking, do you want to get married?  Or like… you know… something?”

 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Geoff,” Jack replied with a smile.  “At least buy me a drink first.”

 

“Nah, you’re driving,” Geoff replied with a chuckle.

 

\--

 

“For the love of God, Gavin, her name isn’t Taylor!” Michael screeched.

 

“I want to call her Taylor,” Gavin protested.

 

“I told Gavin he could call her Taylor,” Lindsay told Michael, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she passed, on her way to Geoff with the sleeping newborn.  Two months had passed.  Lindsay, Michael, and their daughter were comfortably back at the penthouse, Funhaus hadn't even peeped over the line separating their sections of the city, and Ryan, of all people, had convinced Geoff not to have the entire B-Team executed.

 

“I don’t care what her name is, she’s the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” Geoff said, accepting the tiny infant dramatically wrapped in two blankets and wearing the tiniest of tiny baby hats.

 

“Geoff, are you crying?” Jack asked, almost laughing.

 

“I’m definitely not crying, you’re crying, shut the fuck up,” Geoff retorted.  Ray snorted and continued to play the game he was almost finished with from Ryan’s lap.  Ryan was next to Geoff on the couch and infinitely more interested in the baby than the game Ray was playing.

 

“This counts as us having a kid, right?  Because kids are gross and I definitely don’t want one ever,” Ray told Ryan.  “You can play with that one, I’ll play with this Xbox.”

 

“Deal,” Ryan agreed.

 

“Does someone want to explain why Gavin wants her name to be Taylor?” Jeremy asked.  He was the third person sitting on the couch, plugged into the same game as Ray so they could get co-op achievements.

 

“Here comes Taylor Jones,” Gavin sang, as though that answered Jeremy’s question.

 

“Okay, gotcha,” Jeremy replied.  “The British triple-jumper.  Obviously.”

 

“Of all the traits she could possibly pick up from Gavin, I really hope she gets _none_ of them,” Michael said, moving to sit with Lindsay on a loveseat, which was adjacent to the couch.  Gavin was perched on one arm of it, Jack was in a chair on the other side of the room.

 

“I hope she gets your sense of humor,” Lindsay said to Michael.

 

“Really?  I hope she’s just like you,” Michael replied.

 

“It’s pretty much a guarantee, she’s going to be the angriest little ginger kid ever.  She’ll be able to shoot better than Ray by the time she’s six, pull off her first solo heist at 11, and her first word will almost certainly be _fuck_ ,” Gavin said.

 

“And we’ll love her for it,” Geoff agreed, still silently weeping, “and she’ll call me Grampa.”  He let out a proper sob, and Ryan nudged Ray off his lap (much to Ray’s protests) so he could take the tiny human from Geoff.

 

“She’ll be the Princess of Los Santos, and she’ll have everything she can ever want,” Ryan vowed.

 

“Not everything, don’t spoil her,” Lindsay said.

 

“ _Everything_ ,” Ryan insisted.  “I don’t care what it is.  You heard Ray, this is the only one I get.  I’m spoiling her rotten.”

 

“Not true, there’s always a possibility we’ll have a second kid,” Lindsay replied.

 

“Or Gavin will stop dicking around and settle down with a nice lady, oh, I don’t know, what about … _Meg_ ,” Michael teased.

 

“Micoo, I told you that in _private_!” Gavin exclaimed. 

 

“ _I told you that in private_ ,” Michael mocked Gavin in a bad accent.  “Shut up.  She’s one of Lindsay’s best friends, did you really expect it to stay quiet for long?”

 

“Definitely not left out, or alone,” Jeremy commented, not quietly, as he continued to play his and Ray’s game.

 

“We found someone for _Gavin_ , how hard could it be to pair you off?” Ray snorted.

 

“You’re one to talk.  Are you two ever going to admit you’re serious or are you just gonna keep this shit up forever?” Michael asked.

 

“What the hell gave you the impression that we’re not serious?” Ray retorted.

 

“Oh boy, don’t open that door,” Michael said.

 

“We’ve got it all planned out, don’t you worry your little tits,” Ray said.

 

“My tits aren’t little,” Michael mumbled, annoyed, looking down at his chest.  Lindsay patted his back in a soothing manner.

 

“All planned out?  Really?” Jack asked, skeptical.

 

“Well, first, we’re gonna get our own place, so you assholes stop coming in our room at all hours,” Ray began.  “ _I mean_ , this is my house and everything, but _what the fuck ever_ I guess I’ll leave.  Then, we’re going on vacation to see Ryan’s _mom_ , because that was the compromise we landed on.  My parents are dead, but no, Ryan has a mom, and this is all part of the plan.  Step three, someday, we’ll get married, and we won’t tell any of you fucks, because it’s not your goddamn business.”

 

“I’m not invited to your wedding?” Gavin asked, as if Ray had personally stabbed him in the ribs.

 

“No,” Ray repeated.  “And you’ll never know about it.  We could be married right now.  You don’t know.  How would you know?”

 

“No rings,” Jack said.

 

“Who needs em?” Ryan interjected.  “Just have to take them off for jobs and typing and everything else.”  Ray smirked.  The TV made the achievement noise very conveniently just then.  Ray and Jeremy celebrated enthusiastically.  Ryan handed the stirring baby back to Michael, who still couldn’t believe he’d managed to help create something so beautiful.

 

\--

 

“Should we tell them?  Do you think?” Ryan asked as he and Ray were once again the only ones awake at 3:30am.  They were out on the balcony of the penthouse, sat on the ground, legs dangling off the edge through the iron bars keeping them from falling off.

 

“Do they deserve to know?  It’s not about them, is it?” Ray replied.  His left hand was in Ryan’s right, their fingers entwined tightly.  Ray’s head was leaning on Ryan’s shoulder, and they could see stars above them, even with the city’s lights trying to drown them out.  “In all fairness, they didn’t tell us Michael was alive.  Let them sit on it for five or six more months.”

 

“I’m glad he is, though,” Ryan said.  “I’m glad they came back.”

 

“Yeah, it wouldn’t be the same without them and their dumb baby,” Ray agreed.

 

“Really, no kids?” Ryan asked.

 

“Fuck no,” Ray said.  He turned his head to look at Ryan.  “You okay with that?”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan smiled, nodding contently.

 

The fucking end.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for staying this far if you got all the way down here, I appreciate it. Here are some epilogue notes:
> 
> Ray's shitty ex was purposefully unnamed because I didn't want to put the weight of being that shitty onto anyone at RT - or anyone ever.  
> Jeremy's not alone forever, I promise. Also, Jack and Geoff are happy together and do cute Jack and Geoff things.  
> There were so many alternate endings I played with, including one where Ray's shitty ex never came back from his trip, and then suddenly reappears at the penthouse when they storm it. There was another one where Ray's shitty unnamed ex was actually orchestrating for Funhaus. That idea got trashed too. :\
> 
> Also! Shoutout to my mom for giving me the idea for Funhaus's Amazon deliveries and also for reading this and telling me I don't suck, but also "Your swearing is atrocious!" Thanks mom.


End file.
